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Awakening To the Dream	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 45317 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-CH1
- 2-CH2
- 3-CH3
- 4-CH4
- 5-CH5
- 6-CH6
- 7-CH7
- 8-Ch8
- 9-Ch9
- 10-Ch10
- 11-CH11
- 12-CH12
- 13-CH13
- 14-CH14
- 15-CH15
- 16-CH16
- 17-CH17
- 18-CH18
- 19-Ch19
- 20-CH20
- 21-CH21
- 22-Ch22
- 23-CH23
- 24-CH24
- 25-CH25
- 26-CH26
- 27-CH27
- 28-CH28
- 29-CH29
- 30-CH30
- 31-CH31
- 32-CH32
- 33-CH33
- 34-CH34
- 35-CH35
- 36-CH36
- 37-CH37
- 38-CH38
- 39-CH39
- 40-CH40
- 41-Ch41
- 42-Ch42
- 43-Ch43
- 44-Ch44
- 45-Ch45
- 46-Ch46
- 47-Ch47
- 48-Ch48
- 49-Ch49
- 50-Ch50 *End Part 1*
- 51-Ch51
- 52-Ch52
- 53-Ch53
- 54-Ch54
- 55-Ch55
- 56-CH56
- 57-CH57
- 58-CH58
- 59-CH59
- 60-CH60
- 61-CH61
- 62-CH62
- 63-CH63
- 64-CH64
- 65-CH65
- 66-CH66
- 67-CH67 *New 6/6/2015*
- 68-CH68
- 69-CH69
- 64
- 65
- 66
Alright, an update. I have to apologize for not updating sooner, and worse, not writing as much as I had planned to. Life just insists on getting in the way and I haven’t been able to prioritize things the way I need to.
It’s been a year… @_@ I suppose an explanation is in order.
I won’t go into huge detail but a year ago June 15 or so I left my home because of domestic violence brought on by my adoptive brother. Homeless, I lived with my sister-in-law briefly, only to find she did not have my best interests in heart. I committed myself for a short period of time after being prescribed Effexor- it had made me suicidal- and then was taken in by my biological brothers. They helped me get my shit together and gave me a safe atmosphere to grow as I got on proper meds and got a good job. I went in on an apartment with my twin brother after that, only to find he and I are just in two completely different places in our lives right now, so I just settled into my new apartment all alone except for my three kittens. Things are pretty tight but I’d rather struggle than accept what I had a year ago as the price for surviving. Meds are still a concern, and I’m about to get them changed again, but I’m back to work again so things are looking up. And three new chapters. They’re old, but I have to post the old stuff if I want to write the new stuff.

Awakening To the Dream
CH65
“Come on, Taila, please come down. I don’t know where we are, and it’s dark… Taila!” Fisting her hands in frustration, the first year Hufflepuff bit back a small wail as her calico cat stretched and hunkered down for a nap on the statue it had gotten itself stuck upon. She tried to jump and grab him, but she couldn’t reach the kitten. She jumped a few more times, even climbing the edge of the boot that stuck out, but the stone was too smooth to get a solid hold. Sniffling, she sat at the base of the statue, head bowed in defeat. This was the fourth time that day that her little cat had run off! “Oh, why didn’t I get an owl? At least they’re supposed to be up high,” she groaned sorrowfully.
“Actually, felines have adapted so that they can live up in the trees. Some even leap from tree to tree when escaping enemies. Your little friend is more than safe where he is.”
Sarah looked up, her eyes going wide. She quickly scrambled to her feet, half hiding behind the statue holding her kitten hostage. “Wh-Who are you?”
“Hm?” The man looked down at the little girl, a slow smile gracing his fair features. He bowed with a flourish, his hair falling free from his ponytail. “Lesley Griffith, at your service.”
Sarah shrunk further behind the statue, although she had no interest in running away. “You have blue hair.”
Lesley blinked, his eyes straying to his hair. “What do you know, I do have blue hair! You mess up one styling charm and you’re cursed forever!” Sighing dramatically, Lesley straightened and placed his hands on his hips while the little girl giggled. “Now, this may be a guess, but I’m going to say that you’re in Hufflepuff, right?”
“Uh huh. It’s my first year,” Sarah informed with a blush. “I just got Taila this year, too. He keeps running off and getting lost though.”
“Yes, well that’s something miniature cats and miniature people share alike, I’ve noticed.” Lesley reached up the statue, standing on tiptoes to rescue Taila.   “A long time ago I had a chance to be sorted into the Hogwarts’ House system. You cannot imagine all the fun I had with my little Hufflepuff students. They too had a bad habit of getting lost and dragging me along for the adventure.”
“Really? But…but you’re so tall!” Sarah exclaimed.
Lesley’s laughter filled the hall, and soon enough Sarah’s friends came, wondering where the shy girl had wandered off. They all chatted for a bit until Lesley glanced out the window to find the sun not where he had expected it to be. “Goodness, I’ve gotten caught playing when I’m supposed to be off doing business. I do believe I’ll be fired if this keeps up.”
“What kind of business?” a little red head piped up.
“Important business; is there any other?” Lesley reluctantly handed Taila over to his owner, pulling his ear in farewell, followed by Sarah’s pigtail. “Take care now, and no more chasing kittens down hallways you’ve never seen. What do you do?”
“Find a prefect to help!” the kids chorused happily, running off to get to dinner in the Great Hall.
“Heh, little monkeys.” Lesley smiled affectionately. He looked around, the reason why he had been in the random hallway coming back to him now that there was no damsel in distress to distract him. He was lost.
“Well, bugger that.” Shaking his head, he followed blindly after the sounds of laughing students. Ten minutes later he was possible more lost, except now he was quite certain he was in the lower levels because the windows had ceased to exist, and the air had gone chill and damp. He was near giving up and asking one of the dour faced portraits to show him the way when the notes of arguing caught his attention. Always one to meddle, he followed down the hall and around the corner where a tall black boy was leaning on the door to a classroom, cheeks red as he yelled inside to someone out of sight.
“Stop being so stubborn! It won’t take all of twenty minutes! I can’t see why you…” Dean trailed off, eyes turning to the side to catch sight of a strange man looking him over curiously. Dismissing him for the moment, he returned to Neville, “…can’t help!”
“No,” came a muffled answer. “No?” Lesley asked.
“No,” Dean repeated for the man, turning his attention to the side again.
Neville stuck his head out the door to see who the new voice was. “Did Clive send you to get me to help? I swear to the gods, it’s not going to work so don’t bother!” Slamming the door shut, Lesley was left with a very annoyed Dean in the hallway.
“It was nice to see you again, Mr. Longbottom,” Lesley called cheerfully, deciding he’d rather find the hospital wing and talk to Obsidian like he had originally intended. “Excuse me, lad, but you wouldn’t happen to be able to point me towards Madame Pomfrey’s, would you? I got turned around and am now completely lost.”
Dean grunted something and waved over his shoulder down the hallway, more interested in pulling the door open that Neville had bolted shut. “That ruddy… little… squirt!”
“Ah… okay… that way…” Uncertain, Lesley doubled back the way he had come. He was pretty sure it would only lead to where he had been, but then Hogwarts was a bit tricky like that. Unfortunately it hadn’t been tricky this time, and Lesley continued to wander the halls aimlessly.
“Oh dear, the sky is falling.” Dodging a sudden burst of rain coming from a wisp of smoke in the corner of the ceiling, Lesley skipped down the hallway and gave a small cheer as the main set of moving staircases came into view. He was fairly certain where he was now, as long as he got off the proper floor, which was always difficult to tell until he was actually off the staircase and looking around.
Well, seven always seemed to work well for him. With that in mind he jumped onto the staircase, running up before it could start moving. He had hit the fifth level when he was stopped quite suddenly by a crumpled form on the floor accompanied by a pair of sneakers. Squinting, Lesley looked up the sneakers to find the same black boy that had so kindly pointed him in the most vaguest of directions an hour ago. “Hello, lad. Fancy meeting you here.”
Dean gave the strange man a dark look, moving so he was standing protectively over the form on the ground. “Who are you again?”
“Actually, I don’t believe I told you my name,” and with that Lesley turned away, waiting for the staircase to stop its motion.
Dean scratched his head, accidentally stepping on Neville’s hand. “You shoes are moaning,” Lesley pointed out.
“…I swear… I’m going to kill you… Dean…”
“Oh shut up,” Dean growled, kicking Neville lightly in the side. “You brought this on yourself.”
“You wouldn’t happen to be a prefect, would you?” Lesley asked with a raise of his eyebrow.
“No,” Dean said flatly, wishing the strange man would leave already.
“No, I rather thought not. Never hurts to ask.” Lesley turned away again, not speaking. Dean was thoroughly confused at this point. “Who are you?!”
Lesley peered over his shoulder. “Normally I’d tell you, but with you yelling, and hogtieing poor Mr. Longbottom there, you don’t seem the most responsible type. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to continue my never ending journey of being lost in Hogwarts in silence, please.”
“…What?” Dean stared, grim faced.
“His name is Lesley Griffith, and if you knew any better, you’d be a lot more respectful.” With a small growl, Neville shook his hands until the magical bindings melted off his wrists. Dean’s glare turned startled when Neville stood, free of restraints, the smaller boy’s eyes sparking dangerously. “Don’t you ever do that again, or I will find the tallest tree in the Forbidden Forest and leave you on the top of it.”
Dean pursed his lips, biting back an angry retort. “You did not make this easy for me. I’m just trying to help your friends—I hardly even know them!”
“You idiot, they’re Incubi! You’re only helping them because they’re controlling your emotions.” Neville took a deep breath, smoothing his hair back in place. “Which means I shouldn’t be angry at you for being so bloody stubborn. Sorry.”
Dean just shook his head. He wasn’t under anyone’s control; he was just a nice person trying to repay a debt that had ended up horribly complicated, mostly because of the interference of a little kitten. Poor Sarah Hart had been crying her eyes out, her kitten caught in the mouth of one of the air vents on the second floor. So naturally he had gone to help her. But little Taila hadn’t wanted to come out, and had crawled the ventilation system, with Dean following from opening to opening through the maze of hallways for over two hours until finally he had gotten the cat out. He had left Sarah in front of the portrait to the Hufflepuff dorms, hoping she would go inside. Instead Taila had leapt for freedom and another half an hour had been wasted. He was tired, sweaty, and pretty much done with Neville’s unhelpful attitude.
“Well, this is my stop…” Before Lesley could jump onto the landing, Dean grabbed the man by his long ponytail, holding him still. “You are coming with me to the Headmaster’s office. I don’t care who you are, you can’t go roaming the halls without some sort of assurance that you’re not a Death Eater.”
Tucking his hair away from anymore pulling, Lesley turned. “…Do you know where the Headmaster’s office is?”
Dean just glared. If the gods were good, this man was in no way going to be a new teacher.
“Can I get off here, then?” Neville asked, trying to push past Dean and Lesley to get to the landing.
“No. You’re going to help with Zabini—and before you say another word, remember that I have never asked for anything from you.”
Neville stopped mid motion, his frown turning to a pout. “Fine… but this is only because you’ve been so good to Trevor. Everyone else hardly notices him.”
“Trevor’s a great toad,” Dean said seriously. He loved animals but his parents hadn’t thought he’d study well with a pet, so he lived vicariously through his friends. “Thank you.”
“Can I help too?” Lesley asked. Eyes burning again, Dean growled, “who are you!”
Neville shook his head. “Never mind Mr. Griffith, Dean. He’s probably come to see Clive, anyways. Is everything well at White Towers?” Neville turned to Lesley with a worried look.
“It’s fine, for the most part. Just a lot of upheaval as we get things straightened and set up how the Heir instructed before the unfortunate events.” A shadow crossed Lesley’s features. “We’ve also had to put up with quite the array of houseguests that refuse to leave until they have an audience with the Heir. Well, we can’t quite tell them why that’s not possible, can we?” Neville nodded in agreement and kindly pulled the man off the stairs before he was swept away to the wrong landing.
“Ah, I remember now! This was where I plucked that poor cat.” Lesley pointed to a statue as they passed the corridor where he had met the little Hufflepuff in. He looked around briefly as if expecting to see the kitten there. “Such a cute little thing… brought back many a memory of teaching here.”
At the mention of the kitten Taila, Dean had frowned.   Now a tic appeared on his forehead that pulsed with his restrained anger. “Do you have long term plans here, Mr. Griffith?”
Lesley’s eyes gleamed gold. “Depends, I imagine.”
Neville rolled his eyes and kept silent. Dean deserved a little teasing after what he had put him through that day.
*******
Dean was too tired to resist much when Neville insisted Lesley come along to the hospital ward instead of stopping by the Headmaster’s office. He was soon glad he agreed, because the moment they all stepped into the Incubi’s room, tension shot through the chilled air like fire. Lesley, silly and absurd, suddenly became an impressive force of will; without him the Incubi and Elf would have been at each other’s throats. As it was, Neville couldn’t even look them in the face without glaring stubbornly.
“This is not helpful energy.” Lesley gave them all hard looks while Dean began setting up the spirit catcher charm in the background. “Clive, I would have thought you’d have some influence on the two of them.”
Clive looked first to Blaise, and then Neville. His expression was soft. “I could, but I choose not to. I am not their guardian. They are not pets.”
“No, a pet you could beat when it gets out of line.” Lesley gave an uncharacteristic scowl. “It’s bad enough that we’ve lost your help these last weeks. To have it be because these two cannot get along… It is exasperating, to say the least.”
“It has been difficult,” Clive agreed.
“You’re as weak as a newly born babe—and this one! This one smells of death.” He waved his hand in Blaise’s direction, much to Neville and Dean’s shock. “You will fix this, and soon, Clive. Your presence is too important at White Towers to be missed for long. I will not have your race die out.” He gave a tired sigh, his worry revealed.
“Things are not going well,” Clive more stated, than asked.
“Of course not.” Lesley was blunt, any pretense gone now talking with his colleague. “It’s a bloody typhoon of fear and disorder, and my fellow Chancellors have spent so long following orders that they don’t know how to take the initiative. I cannot take the reigns with my blood; they—and you—need to step up to this task and stop looking to me for the obvious. Helena is completely daft, and Stratford has been so busy worrying over Margaret’s change to help. Christien, gods bless his adoring, innocent soul, will not speak to me for fear I may pounce on him, as I’m apt to do because my hormones have regressed to that of a very horny monkey, and he keeps getting things messed up because of it. We are relying on Marjory, Clive.” His look said just how wrong that was. “Marjory is running the show, plus Nips, and as clever as they are, they’re too busy fighting or cooing over the pregnant Gryphon and Dragon Queen to get anything done. I’m this close to going all Fae on the whole lot of them. And that Balten—Oh, I knew he was trouble, but I didn’t expect him to be haunting the grounds like a damn specter waiting for the blood to flow. He keeps following around Christien, and I’m near killing him, Fae Ambassador or not.”
Clive remained silent, letting Lesley get out the pent up emotions he had been holding in. It was actually a relief. His life may have been turned upside down, a new face, new powers, new problems, but Lesley still treated him exactly the same. It was a steady place in a very unstable world.
“Are they healthy?” he broke in once Lesley was out of steam. It seemed the most important question when so many were available.
“Well, yes, for the most part. Stratford is worrying me a bit. Even with Margaret transformed, the old man seems to be fading away… Poor Helena is falling further out of touch with reality… And you.” He gave Clive a knowing look. “Shall I lose you as well, friend, when you have just discovered your true self?”
“I cannot make any promises, Lez. But I will never willingly desert you or the Council. You gave me meaning to my life, after all.”
“We need you, Clive. We need you now… and healthy,” Lesley directed the last part to Neville. The boy looked away, scowling.
Clive nodded thoughtfully; it was good to be needed. “I think White Towers can do without me for another month or so—”
“But—”
“And while you’re here we can strategize on how you are going to address the many important issues you have just told me about. I suspect you’ve fallen back on your old passive aggressive ways again if you’ve let things get so bad. Have you been meditating?” At Lesley look, Clive added, “do you think you can fix everything when you’re falling apart yourself?
“There is no time for it.” Lesley huffed and sat down beside the man.
“If it were I, I would go out and commune in the forest. You do not have the same luxury. But you are here now, and you shall use the time wisely.”
“I’m here to ask Obsidian for help with security at White Towers, and to transfer some of my energy to Harry. Then I am to return and deal with the Peri Lul, who are arriving tonight. There is no time.”
“The Peri Lul?” Clive bit his lip. “You have… well… it is no secret…”
“They hate me—I’m more than aware. You kill one prince and they label you a tyrant forever. It would be so much simpler if you were there to greet them. They like you.” He gave Clive a bewitching smile. ‘I suspect they’d more than like you now that you have your snowy Soul Form.”
“I can’t leave here,” Clive reminded moodily. “I’m… This environment is not doing much for me. I miss the forest… But, I can help you with the Peri Lul, at least. Well, Neville can.”
“Bloody well can not!” Neville growled, angry to have been drawn into another responsibility.
“Watch yourself,” Lesley warned, his eyes narrowed on the boy. “We are all making sacrifices.” Neville glared, and snapped his mouth shut. He went to the window and sat on the sill, ignoring everyone in the room. Blaise continued to watch and listen quietly from his chair, unwilling to disturb conversation concerning the Council.
“He’ll be fine. He’s never met the Peri Lul, but he has the right amount of youth and power to hold their favor. His sour mood could actually work in your favor tonight. They expect a certain air of arrogance, something he has yet to learn. They will appreciate his heart…” Clive had to blink away his unconscious thoughts before they took over his voice. “You will protect him?”
“Of course,” Lesley assured him readily.
A shadow crossed over Clive’s face. “…You cannot keep him.”
“You’re forgetting who I am.” They stared each other down, until Clive looked away.
“This place… I am not myself.” He gave his friend an apologetic look. “Blaise is afraid.”
“I’ll destroy you, you know.” Blaise whispered, his eyes burning into Lesley’s.
“For fuck’s sake—stop it!” Neville ordered, whirling from his seat. “I am not yours to be fighting over! I am not… I am not a thing to be owned, or t-talked about… or stared at. Just because you’re bloody royals doesn’t give you the right to rule my life—!” He stopped, eyes snapping to the hand resting on his shoulder.
“Look at them,” Dean said tightly, pointing to the Incubi. “You’re hurting them… and yourself.”
Neville reached his hand up, touching the warmth streaming from his eyes. When he pulled away his fingers were dyed in blood. He looked blankly at Blaise and Clive, curled in on themselves and shaking. “…Damn.” He turned away, and held tight to the window frame. “Damn—I don’t want this!”
Dean pulled Neville by the arm and led him out of the room before his energy did anymore damage. They sat in the empty waiting area, Neville muttering under his breath as he tried to calm himself.
Dean handed him his handkerchief, helping to clean his face. It was rare for Neville to have outbursts. Obviously the boy was under a lot of stress, and likely it had to do with the two in the room. Maybe dragging him to help hadn’t been his best idea after all… just, he believed Malfoy enough to see how important it was. So much energy wasn’t raised without the proper combination of elements.
“Tell me… what are royals? Are they like kings?” Dean asked to draw Neville out of his brooding.
“If only.” Neville sighed softly, pulling his head from where he had buried it in his arms. “Clive is a god to them, the last of the Scions, the last of the pure Fae Incubi blood… and Blaise is near on his way. He’ll replace his grandmother, Lady Jaha, the Stone Queen, and take over the High Tieren when he comes into his second awakening in a handful of decades.”
“And you?”
“Ha! I am nothing,” he spat. “I strived for happiness, I was content with happiness, but that was just too much. You have not seen the other Lustre—they would sooner wipe their feet on my Clan, and my Clan would just as readily kill them. They’re all dust and stubbornness. You only see the new, like Draco and myself. The ones with power, the ones that live and pass down the forms you see in there, they are the ones that have made the rules thousands of years ago. They’re the core of our Clans, and their hatred touches all.”
Dean sat back, taking his time in processing the situation. “Are there royals in your Clan?”
Neville shrugged, his eyes tight on the floor. “At least as a human I was free.”
“…It’s you?”
“They’re considering it,” he admitted. “They’ve needed a new royal since the last one died three hundred years ago. Without one, they have little standing in the High Tieren. The same that had shunned me as a squib are now making fools of themselves as they try to convince my Grandmum.” His hands clenched around his knees until his knuckles turned white. “They did nothing to help my parents, yet they think I will throw away the life I have here for their plans. I hate them.”
“I see…” Dean studied Neville’s profile thoughtfully. “If another of your Clan changes like you have, will they choose him instead?”
“Possibly… if it were a girl. It will be hard to draw attention from myself since I was the first. They all see it as some stupid sign.” He looked over to Dean when the boy made a confused sound. “What?”
“Well… you’re kinda taking all this stress and problems and throwing it on those guys in there. It’s not like they can help what they were born into, just as much as you can.”
“I, uh…” Neville swallowed hard, his face going red. He could never explain to Dean just how intricate the situation was. “That is… well… I guess you’re right…” Nervously he scratched his nails down the outer crease of his pants. “It’s just… I don’t want to have anything to do with the Elves. The Incubi, they’re sort of the group the Elves resent. To be with the Incubi would be to incite the Elves… and the Incubi are the same. They would not accept me. It’s just not a good situation.”
“Maybe.” Dean unfolded his legs and stood. “But you’re not those people from the past, and those two in there are obviously not concerned about Clans and past circumstances when they look at you. You’re all new. Maybe it’s time to let the past die, and make something better than what your Clans want for you.”
“You make it sound so simple.” He watched Dean walk down the length of the room and pick up two of the bottles of water Madame Pomfrey left out for guests. They nursed their drinks in silence until Neville put his aside and stared warily at the wooden door.
“Ready?” Dean asked, steady and calm in contrast to Neville’s fidgeting.
They pushed the door open, and stopped. The air had gained weight from the anger that filled it. It was a struggle to walk in, and Neville imagined, pure torture for the ones that had stayed. He wanted to hide by the window and pretend he wasn’t there. Instead he stepped to the bed, around the chair Lesley was sitting in, and waited. Neither Blaise nor Clive acknowledged his presence.
Not wanting to be a part of the drama, Dean hurried to his forgotten spirit catcher. With a wave of his wand it was activated. A breeze filled the room, and across the silvery threads of the catcher indistinct areas of color began to form as the raw magic in the room was filtered through. Slowly the oppressive weight began to lift, and with it did everyone’s mood. It wasn’t till the air was filled with the crisp scents of oncoming snow that it was clear just how much negative energy had been influencing them.
“No wonder you’re bouncing off the walls,” Dean remarked to Blaise with his brows furrowed. The more negative energy to be released, the more likely something bad would happen to the Slytherin during the process. Maybe small increments would be a safer idea.
Neville was still standing awkwardly before the occupants of the bed, who were still refusing to look at him. No one spoke, but there were enough tuffs of magic flowing from the three to reflect their troubled thoughts.
Finally Neville gave a deep sigh and hesitantly reached his hand out. He pressed his palm lightly to the side of Blaise’s face, watching intently for a reaction, half expecting to be struck. “…Hell, don’t cry.”
Sniffling, Blaise wiped at his eyes. “You hate us,” he accused in a small voice. Clive made a weak sound of agreement and pulled Blaise closer to his side.
“I don’t…” Neville knelt, trying to catch their gaze. They kept skirting their eyes away, and he had a feeling it had a lot to do with his bitchiness about them always staring. The lack of contact now was just as shocking as the lack of magic in the air, but he could only notice it when it was gone. He felt empty.
It was a tentative, silent battle for courage when Neville reached out, not with his hands, but with something less physical and far more fundamental. A small tendril of power wound its way through the protective curtains surrounding the Incubi, and slowly, hesitantly, made contact. He jerked back, shying away as the other two immediately tried to wrap around him and pull him down. “Don’t, just… just let me…” He closed his eyes, and tried to stop his racing heart. His mind reached out again, connected, and waited.
Blaise’s pulse jumped beneath his fingertips, and the boy opened his eyes to stare uncertainly. “I can hardly feel you, Shiny.” Blaise gave a pleading look, but didn’t voice his thoughts for fear of scaring Neville away.
Nervously Neville concentrated his power, strengthening the connection. He felt Clive reach out, the man carefully siphoning thoughts and emotions to him. They bounced off ineffectively, illuminating the problem. There was no pressure from the other two, but Neville’s anxiety increased. He had started this though, and there was no point backing down now. He focused again, and before he could chicken out, he probed the connection deeper and let it grow, opening himself to the other two.
He expected a wild, overwhelming attack of emotions and thoughts. Instead a faint scent sweetly permeated his mind.    If he focused hard he could discern things, like the excitement rushing through Blaise, and the softer, warm contentment Clive was giving off. If they tried, they could send him images and thoughts, but for now they didn’t, allowing Neville to adjust to the change. He wasn’t taken over; he wasn’t pulled under until he had no identity…
“I’ve been a complete fool,” he whispered. He could feel their eyes on him, but this time he couldn’t look at them.
“The mind can make the unknown into the greatest of trials.” Lesley got up from his seat, turned to the spirit catcher, and then to the three on the bed. “We should do this now, before Longbottom is corrupted by their energy. His presence can strengthen Blaise for only as long as he isn’t polluted.”
Blaise nodded and uncurled from the bed. He leaned over and kissed Clive’s troubled frown. “Don’t forget to teach him about the Peri Lul.” With a lingering pat to Neville’s bowed head, he floated away before he could acknowledge everyone’s worry. He took his wand when Dean handed it to him. “I’ve only done this once, and I was in much better shape at the time…”
“Can you do it in small steps?” Dean asked.
“Maybe… I’ll try.” He turned wide eyes away, his hands shaking slightly.
Lesley held his arms out in front of him. “I’m here to support you, and Thomas is going to ward the door so that the energy won’t escape. There’s no need to worry. Just take your time. Relax, and concentrate. By tensing, the negative energy will only cling to your own.”
Blaise was well aware of all that, he was just having a difficult time calming down. There was so much going on in his head, mostly concerning how he really didn’t want to die. He took a deep breath, then another, breathing in through his nose and out past his lips. In his mind’s eye he was back at their small family temple, the cool halls smelling of moss and the depths of the Earth. His mother was there, arranging flowers for the upcoming ritual. He could hear his father’s voice echoing off the walls as he laughed at one of Gerald’s jokes the old man was known for.
Inhaling, he raised his wand. Exhaling, he released the dam of built up of magic and negative energy. He tried to control it, but instantly found it impossible. It was either hold or release, there was no in between.
“Relax… don’t let go now,” Lesley urged. Blaise’s focus was slipping further into the whirlpool of energy being released. “Focus.”
It was an eternity, standing there with his life trying to escape. His fingers had turned blue even though he was sweating. He imagined he was turning to stone in one of his grandmother’s death stares…
Blaise awoke with a start, sound rising in a wave as he regained himself. Clive was holding him tight, Lesley and Dean’s worried faces hovering above him. Somehow he had ended up in one of the chairs. He looked around blurrily, trying to turn.
“Don’t move.” A hand came into view, and Blaise followed to his right where he found Neville with his own version of worry written on his face. Blaise couldn’t help but wonder why he was getting that look all around.
“Madame Pomfrey’s on her way,” Neville informed Lesley. “She’s extremely pissed off.”
“I’ll take the brunt of that. You two run along to your dorms before she starts chopping heads. I’ll be calling for you later, Longbottom. Thomas, good job with the catcher.”
Neville hesitated. “Is he…?”
“We won’t know for a while. It depends a lot on how well he bounces back.” Lesley gave Neville a serious look. “Things would not have gone as well if you hadn’t done what you did today.”
Neville glanced over at Blaise, his expression blank. “I’ll be ready in forty-five minutes.”
Blaise watched them leave, his bleary thoughts disturbed by a nasty feeling of foreboding. There must be something wrong with him, he realized. Why else would everyone be giving him troubled looks? …Uh-oh… was he dying?
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Clive whispered in his ear. “You’re going to be fine. You’re only weak from the spell. This was to be expected.”
For once, Blaise wasn’t certain if Clive was being truthful. “I’m tired.”
“Sleep then. I’ll take care of things for now.”
The room spun, and Clive gently laid Blaise down on the bed. He looked to the side where the thin lines of the spirit catcher were clouded with a chaos of colors. Small smoky wisps of black wrapped around it, the remains of the foreign magic that had been infecting Blaise for months. “What should we do with that?”
Lesley raised his head. “I can take it with me. I’m sure Christien will find something brilliant to do with it. Maybe it will get Balten off my back for a while.”
“This Cred Balten… do you really feel he has ulterior motives?”
“One can only assume when it comes to the Heir. He’s been making a nuisance of himself, but I haven’t sensed anything menacing from him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the reason the Peri Lul are calling. It’s just another thing to worry about when I’m trying to get things in order.”
Clive looked off into the distance, his eyes frosting. “…I don’t sense anything from them.”
“Is that good?” Lesley’s lips twitched in a smile.
Clive returned the sardonic expression. “Hard to say, seeing as I never sense anything from them.”
“What a sorry excuse for a seer you make,” Lesley teased. “At least the brat has some potential. Did you want anything sent to you while you’re here?”
“The gold framed picture of my family in my room. I’d like to show it to Neville.”
“What about your pets? The lot of them miss you terribly. Helena has been looking after them best she can, and Christien checks at times to make sure they’re set.”
“They’ll be alright. None of them are fully dependent on me… I made sure, just incase something ever happened…” He stopped, not willing to voice what that something might be. Clive had experienced little happiness in his life, and more loss than Lesley felt anyone should have to deal with. He was happy to see those times coming to an end.
“I need to go talk to a gargoyle and give my energy to Harry, and then I’ll be back.”
“To meditate?”
Lesley sighed. “Yes, to meditate. I guess I’m quite a fool to have one as sick as you telling me to take care of myself.”
“Was there ever any doubt?” Clive smirked and ducked away from Lesley’s half-hearted smack. “Obsidian’s across the hall—Do try not to get lost.”
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Awakening To the Dream